


I'm Sure They Didn't Belong To Me

by afterafternoons



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 22:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterafternoons/pseuds/afterafternoons
Summary: title is taken from your lips and me (reprise) - in trousersidea taken from a headcanon posted on twitter by .httpmendel: "since that theory that whizzer is a photographer is making a comeback can i bring back my headcanon that he was the photographer for marvin and trina’s wedding"





	I'm Sure They Didn't Belong To Me

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first post on this site and i'm still finding my footing so please bear with me! i really love the headcanon, but i'm my biggest self critic and have been over analyzing my writing so i'm just gonna stop worrying and put it out there for people to enjoy and offer feedback on. i also want to mention that i did a lot of research to write this fic, seeing as i know nothing about judaism, so if anything's wrong i apologize in advance. 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> headcanon from twitter user httpmendel: "since that theory that whizzer is a photographer is making a comeback can i bring back my headcanon that he was the photographer for marvin and trina’s wedding"

       The floor to ceiling windows on either side of the front doors of the Synagogue filled the front entry hall with light. With every stride Marvin made pacing the hall, his shadow followed suit. He had been pacing the floor of the Synagogue for some time, hoping to be the first to greet the wedding photographer he’d hired and warn him of the meltdown his soon to be wife was having because of his lateness. Both receptions had been had and the only person they were riding on was the photographer Marvin had hired. His eyes shifted between the clock and the door, until he weaseled the business card out of the front pocket of his trousers, debating whether he should call the number given.

_Whizzer Brown Photography._

_241 W 100th St, New York, NY 10025_

_Tel: MOnument 2-2491_

       He turned the card over in his hand, still walking the front hall without intentions to slow down. His nervous energy was keeping him moving and it didn’t help that only moments before he’d gone to check in with Trina only to have her blow up in his face. “This day was supposed to be perfect,” she’d said. “I’m never letting you hire people for any of our special occasions in the future,” she’d decided. “It’s your fault he’s late,” she’d accused. Then she had sent him on his way as her bridesmaids tried to calm her. Of course, he’d been standing on the opposite side of the door when it had all gone down. After the signing of the ketubah (a Jewish marriage contract that delignated a husband’s obligations to his wife), Marvin wasn’t allowed to see Trina until the bedeken (veiling) ceremony. Trina wanted everything done very traditionally and while Marvin cared, he never seemed to care enough in her eyes.

       Just as he’d turned to retrace his steps the door was pulled open, flooding the front hall with outside light and in walked the photographer Marvin had only talked to once before. He was slender and long limbed. A coffee cup in one hand, a camera bag on his opposite arm. He hadn’t noticed Marvin at first – too busy trying to close the door behind him and buttoning up his shirt to appear less disheveled, having booked it from the subway after being delayed with no way of calling his clients.

       “Whizzer?” Marvin had guessed, sliding the business card back into his pocket. The man had whipped around, halfway through a sip of his coffee. He ran a hand through his hair before accepting the handshake Marvin had offered. “There was a subway delay,” He said, his tone apologetic as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the nearest subway station a couple blocks down, “I meant to be here as soon as I could. I’m sorry about that.”

       Marvin was quick to shrug off the apology. He wasn’t the one who needed to hear it. Whizzer looked to him expectantly, eyebrows raised. “Where do you want me to start?” He asked, biting at his thumbnail. It was a habit he’d had since he could remember, and it served him well in times where it was inappropriate to take a smoke break. It wasn’t that he was nervous but rather that he’d started his day later than usual. Coffee wasn’t his go to choice either, usually he opted for tea.

       “Trina, my fiancé,” Marvin began to explain as they walked, “wants pictures of everything. The bedeken. The chuppah.” He stopped walking abruptly, turning to the taller man. “Do you know what those things are? I can explain them in English words.” “I’m half Jewish.” Whizzer replied with a polite smile, having switched from biting his nails to finishing his coffee. He threw the empty disposable cup into a waste basket as they passed before taking his camera out of its bag. He checked it over as they walked, listening to Marvin talk about the day’s itinerary, even going so far as to warn Whizzer of the unpredictable and short fuse his wife had.

       Marvin pushed his way into a room where a crowd of men were gathered in idle chatter, quickly he introduced them to the new arrival before the Rabbi and the two fathers pushed their way to the front of the small crowd to begin the ceremony. They lead Marvin to Trina’s reception room – Whizzer snapping photos of the procession. He was deeply passionate about his work and took every job he was given seriously. Perhaps it was the camera, or perhaps it was the photographer, but Marvin was featured as the sole focus of most of the pictures. The rest of the procession acting as background characters in his work of art, even as they laughed and talked with Marvin and played bigger roles than Whizzer was portraying.

       One of the bridesmaids opened the door after the Rabbi had knocked and Marvin was permitted to see Trina for the first time since the signing of the ketubah. Whizzer was quick to capture all reactions with his camera, to preserve them for eternity. Both mothers flanked Trina’s side, smiling, as the bride stood to offer out a box to her soon-to-be husband. “He’s late.” Trina said quietly as if Whizzer couldn’t hear her, watching intently as Marvin unwrapped the box. He spared her a glance as if to tell her to knock it off. Whizzer stopped taking pictures until they were both smiling again. In the box was the kittel, a white garment worn during the wedding ceremony by the groom to represent purity. Marvin set it aside for the time being, his groomsmen would help him into it after the bedeken ceremony. As per the ceremony, Marvin draped the veil over Trina’s face and they were off. Marvin returning to his reception room to don the kittel as they waited for the ceremony to officially begin.

       Whizzer strayed from following Marvin around, snapping pictures of guests and scenery. When the ceremony was finished, and the newlyweds headed out for the Yichud, Whizzer stayed behind, taking in the scenery for himself instead of through his camera lens. He studied people as they talked and laughed with one another, standing on the fringes of the room to observe the world he’d been welcomed into for the day. When a reasonable amount of time had passed, and the couple returned, Whizzer was back to snapping photographs as friends and family celebrated the coming together of two families.

       Whizzer got to know his employers better as the night dragged on. Trina, ever aware of the camera, donned a smile even in her souring mood. Whizzer had overheard her scolding her new husband several times as the night dragged on. “Why are you looking at other men on our wedding day?” She had hissed as the party continued around her, “Can you not enjoy me for one night? I thought we had talked about this. Marvin, please.”

       Marvin was trying his best to behave and be present in the ceremony, but he couldn’t help but indulge in bad habits. Especially when they were so attractive and present. Initially, Whizzer hadn’t noticed the extra attention he’d been given. He’d been too immersed in his work, but after taking a smoke break and returning to the job he noticed that every time he trained his camera on Marvin, the smaller man was looking right back at him. They would have talked more that night, had Trina not been understandably glued to his side and watching his every move.

       She was well acquainted with his behavior, knowing full well how he could run off and seduce practically anyone only to come back to her after each affair, claiming that they hadn’t meant a thing to him. She couldn’t quite place why she had stayed. Or even married the bastard. But she was itching for love and this filled that need for the time being.

       In the coming weeks, Marvin would remember the business card in his front pocket, and when the wedding jitters had worn off and he and Trina fell back into their same old mundane routine he would pick up the phone and dial MOnument 2-2491. His wedding photos only an afterthought of his true intentions.


End file.
